Those December Confessions
by Fadeaway Windwaker
Summary: He loved her more than he thought possible...she didn't love him. In fact, she loved another...but he never looked her way. Now she's about to give up on everything, and he's running out of time. BradNaomi one-shot


_Those December Confessions_

_Summary: He loved her more than he ever thought possible…and she didn't love him. In fact, she loved another…but he never looked her way. Now she's about to give up on everything…and he's running out of time. Brad/Naomi…_

_A/N: It's a **one-shot**, people. Enough said._

Disclaimer: Ha. I wish.

_A life is an easy thing to break, after all. _Naomi rolled her eyes bitterly. _So easy to break…it's hardly worth having._ She sighed, running a hand through her once-lustrous red tresses as she continued to scrutinize herself in the mirror.

The bags under her eyes that she had thought could get no darker proved her wrong. Deep and full, they provided a lurid contrast to her translucent complexion, made evermore pale by lack of sleep. Her cheekbones jutted out almost abnormally; she'd lost weight in the past few weeks, her appetite being as plentiful as her sleep. Her eyes were dulled, emotionless. She had the look of one who no longer cared for life; one who would readily accept death if it presented itself.

And oh, how she wished for it to do so.

Naomi sighed once more, a note of disgust detectable in her tone, as she turned away from the mirror. It had become harder and harder to look at herself as time went on, and it was to the point now where she could barely stand to be in front of the wretched glass long enough to brush her hair. She wasn't sure what had compelled her to stand before the mirror that day, that bitter day in December. Maybe she realized that she hadn't seen her reflection in almost three days and she wanted to see what kind of neglected, wasted image she was conveying to the world. Or perhaps she wanted to see if the circles beneath her crimson orbs could truly get any darker, if her skin could continue to pale, if her eyes could truly lose the last of their light. 

Or maybe, in a twisted, sadistic way, she wanted to bear witness to her own destruction. Take pleasure in her slowly slipping life…in her silent, gradual suicide. What else, really, was there to do? Surely she was too far gone to be saved. Surely her old life was out of her reach.

Surely there was no one left to save her. No one left to love her.

Not that she would want anyone to. Not since…how long had it been? Three weeks, was it? Yes, three weeks. Three agonizing weeks that had slowly dragged the life out of her, quietly robbed her mind of the will to survive, a will every human naturally possessed. 

What, then, did that make her? Lacking such a basic human instinct…did that make her…_inhuman_?

_Stop it, __Naomi__, _she chastised herself. _You're not making any sense. You're being ridiculous. _But was she? Was it possible to sink below the ranks of humanity? Wasn't she a living example of just that very thing? Wasn't she-

Naomi was torn from her twisted paranoia by a soft, hesitant knock at the door. "Naomi?" It was Leon. She was surprised he had the nerve to knock on her door. He had barely engaged in conversation with her for the past…

Another knock, slightly louder, still tentative. "Naomi?"

Three weeks.

She didn't want to answer him. She was asleep. A glance at the clock told her that this was a futile excuse. 1:30 PM. Shit. Leon may not have been particularly perceptible to her insomnia, but there was no way he'd believe that she was still asleep at this hour. The blackened rings under her eyes proved that loud and clear, and there was no way they had gone unnoticed.

Okay, so she wasn't asleep. She was…

In the shower? No, obviously not. The bathroom was across the hall and the pipes creaked so loudly that the sounds reverberated across the base; anyone with halfway decent hearing knew when the shower was in use.

out Christmas shopping? Ha. Yeah right. Out fighting her way through massive crowds of frantic idiots bent on beating each other to the best sales? And to the tune of "Jingle Bells", no less. She'd rather be in hell.

out of her mind?

deranged and insane?

manic-depressive?

all of the above?

_Keep thinkin, girl._

She struggled to contain a groan as the knock on the door grew almost demanding. Why couldn't he just give up and go away? That's what she would do. _Because he's not like you, _her mind reminded her. _He doesn't ignore what he doesn't want to deal with. And he doesn't take advantage of other people. But then, you learned that three weeks ago, didn't you? _Naomi scowled and clenched her fists. _Shut up, _she ordered her thoughts. 

There was no way out. She was trapped and she had to answer the door. Her voice, weak and quiet, barely used, called out, hardly louder than the silence. "Yes, Leon?"

Naomi could sense his surprise, a shock so great he had to pause a few seconds to collect himself before answering. "Uh, I just wanted to let you know I'm going out shopping…do you need anything?" His words were slow and hesitant, as if he was regretting them the minute they were said. She ignored this reluctance. He had a right to it. 

Did she need anything? _Sanity._If not her own, then someone else's. "No…I don't need anything." Her voice was expertly void of emotion. A decent person would have added a word of thanks, but she couldn't bring herself to say something of that nature. After all, what did she owe him, really? Sure he took the first step in bridging the communication gap between them, but his tone clearly showed he took no particular pleasure in doing so. She supposed that after three weeks he just felt it was something he had to do. Or maybe it was the generous spirit of Christmas and whatnot. She rolled her eyes cynically at the thought.

In any case, whatever the reason, she didn't care. If he wasn't going to be pleasant about it then there was no reason for her to be grateful. Why pay him a courtesy he wasn't willing to return? She wasn't his lackey; she didn't have to let herself get kicked around. Naomi Fluegel wasn't anyone's bitch. 

"Okay…I'll be back in a few hours, I guess." He sounded defeated, as if he'd actually expected to make progress with her. He didn't bother waiting for her assent; his footfalls slowly faded away as he walked off.

"Yeah, whatever," she muttered bitterly under her breath, burying her face in her pillow miserably. She hated him. She hated herself. And she wanted to lock herself in this room and sleep until she died. Or maybe just die; that would work, too. 

But she couldn't. And she shouldn't. She was supposed to be stronger than this. She wasn't supposed to need anyone. Being alone suited her. Things hadn't changed. _Oh, but they have…they've changed more than you know…and you can't bring them back the way they used to be…you're powerless… _Naomi gritted her teeth in an attempt to keep herself from screaming. The silence was killing her; she needed to escape it. Even if it meant walking through town among the psychotic droves of holiday shoppers and listening to the moronic melodies of Christmas carols blaring from store loudspeakers, which were oh-so-conveniently placed outside. 

After a twenty minute shower that she forced herself out of before the urge to drown overwhelmed her, she dressed in baggy black pants and an old green hooded sweatshirt, which served to unassumingly conceal her figure. She left the base, running her fingers through wet strands of flaming red hair in a vain attempt to brush out the tangles, having been too lazy to be bothered with actually pulling it back away from her face. The wind whipped the damp strands around, and she brushed them back from her eyes with an air of annoyance. Eventually she gave up; the wind was only going to waylay any insignificant progress she managed to make.

Naomi walked down the concrete sidewalks, oblivious to the hordes of people around her, arms crossed over her chest for protection. Observing the mindless happiness of the holiday music that plagued her ears, she began to regret leaving her room to come out among the living. For if the living could only be seen like this, then she was better off without them. 

Naomi Fluegel had left her home at age 16 to become a Zoid pilot, and she hadn't been back since. Not that she cared. Her family had never been what she wanted it to be and she was happier simply keeping her distance. Much-needed distance, that is. She had never really had a home. She had never had anyone to be with this time of year, either. She was always alone, constantly drawing away from the attempts of others to form relationships. 

Relationships never really worked. They always broke eventually. Nothing was sacred. Nothing could last.

Then she came across Leon Toros. Each marveled at the other's skill, and they formed a team, the first partnership Naomi remembered not running away from. She'd known Leon was attracted to her those first few months, always watching her when he thought she didn't notice, unable to look her in the eye for fear of her catching on to his hidden affections. What he didn't know was that she already understood his feelings far too well, and she wished she didn't. She didn't want his love and she knew she never would. He was a brother to her, a friend, and she couldn't change it.

She wanted to, sometimes. It used to get so tiring, so unbelievably exhausting, watching him day after day, staring at her with that quiet, nonchalant look of adoration, his deep brown eyes conveying the desperate hope for the feeling to be mutual. She knew what he was thinking and she didn't have the heart to clue him in to reality. The reality that his dreams could never be true; the reality that the only thing he wanted was the very thing she could never give him. So she didn't tell him. She let him continue to admire her from afar while she tried desperately to ignore it. She let him keep his dreams, embrace his hopes; she let his wishes remain untouched by reality. 

She let him live a lie, because she couldn't bear to say the truth.

Life was like that for almost a full year, with Leon none the wiser. The Fluegel team battled constantly, creating a name rather quickly in the world of zoids battles created by the ZBC. Leon visited his sister and father on the Blitz Team, and yes, Naomi's crimson depths looked Brad Hunter's way more than once. However, unlike poor Leon, Naomi had mastered the art of shielding her feelings, and Brad, though he always acknowledged her presence, never caught on. For this Naomi was grateful; she still couldn't find the will to set things straight with Leon, and she didn't want to hurt him. Getting involved with Brad would just complicate the situation. 

Yes, everything went smoothly…until about three weeks ago, that is. For that was when Leon, shy, quiet Leon, decided he didn't want to be so shy and quiet anymore. He had grown bored of worshipping Naomi behind her back, and he had gathered the courage to confront her with his affections. She sensed this; she could tell by the way he held himself that night, the light shining in his eyes, that he was going to approach her with the truth. And the truth that she had to feed him was going to be a lot harder to swallow than his profession of feelings. 

He cornered her one night in the hallway, managing to casually back her up against the wall so that she couldn't escape. Crimson eyes darted back and forth; she didn't have the courage to look him in the face. She still remembered every word he'd spoken that night. "Naomi…" He'd whispered her name softly, as if afraid he wasn't worthy of speaking it. She squirmed uneasily as his lips brushed over her own, as his hand stroked her hair. "I think I loved you the minute I met you." They were so close she could feel his heart beat quicken as he kissed her, once, twice, the space between them becoming nonexistent. She had to tell him. She didn't want to, but she no longer had any choice in the matter. He had to hear the truth now, before she allowed this to go beyond her control. 

So she did. She brought her hands up against his chest, pushed him away gently, stared into his eyes. Naomi watched his face fall as he read what was in those eyes, as he came to realize that she couldn't return his feelings. She let him figure everything out for himself, witnessed the last traces of hope fading from those deep brown depths. She opened her mouth to say something…anything. To apologize, maybe; she didn't know. Just to end the discouraging silence. But before she could utter a syllable he put his finger to her lips, shushing her. 

"I suppose I should have known," he told her softly, not quite meeting her eyes. "You did a fine job of pretending you didn't notice anything." Leon laughed bitterly. "Letting me think I had a chance…what a saint." He was looking at her now, and she felt her throat constrict at the resentment in his once-peaceful gaze. She had never seen Leon angry before. 

Was that the kind of power she had? The power to bring pain? To bring fury?

"Leon, I…you don't understand…"

"Oh, I understand, Naomi. For the first time, I understand everything." He stared at her, struggling between anguish and rage. "You knew I didn't have a chance. You played me for a fool, right from the start. What's the matter now? Did you get tired of your little game?" He glared at her; he'd never glared at anyone until now. "Were you running out of lies?"

Her eyes widened. "Leon…please…" This was insane. He wasn't like this.

"I don't want your excuses." More acidic laughter. "Who knows, maybe I can't even trust those." He tore his gaze from her and turned, taking off down the dark hallway. She opened her mouth to call after him but the words wouldn't come. It turned out she didn't need them to; her silence must have called him back, for he suddenly stopped and turned to face her. His words, soft and emotionless, echoed in her mind even now. 

"Why don't you go screw someone else?" He was staring straight at her, unblinking. 

"Like Brad Hunter."

Naomi's mouth fell open in a strangled, soundless gasp as she fell against the wall, her legs no longer able to support her. She crumbled to the ground, hugging her knees and, as Leon vanished into the darkness, she began to cry. For the first time since she left home two years ago, she cried, every sadness and regret tumbling out of her in uncontrollable sobs. Alone in that darkened hallway she sat and wept, for how long she didn't know. All she knew was that she couldn't stop.

Leon had known; he'd known the whole time. Here she was thinking she was being kind by shielding him from the truth, when she couldn't have hurt him any worse. Thinking she was generously keeping him from harsh reality when she was the one living in a falsehood. For every lie she'd silently told him she'd also fed herself, trying to justify every action, every refusal to acknowledge his feelings. And he'd known everything, from the beginning, probably. And not just that…not just everything…

He knew about Brad.

He wasn't as blind as she thought he was. He wasn't as ignorant as she'd believed him to be.

He wasn't as stupid as she was.

She'd hardly eaten since. She hadn't slept. She hadn't spoken to anyone. Leon's anger had worn off and exhausted worry came to remain in its stead; still, he didn't talk to her, only watched her tear herself apart. He was, she supposed, still too bitter to make amends. Not that she cared. She didn't care about much of anything anymore. She'd systematically destroyed the semblance of security she'd built up over the years of living in this base, and she had nothing left. No place to call home. No teammate to confide in. 

And no one to love her; she was sure of that. No one to spend this goddamned life with. But the best part, the real crowning insult of it all, was not any of that.

No. The best part? Was that it was all her fault.

The end of Naomi's reverie found her still walking down the street, vision obscured as crystalline tears escaped those apathetic crimson depths. For calling back the memories also called back the anguish, and pain did not come without a price. Her agony blinded her and she supposed this was why, a few minutes later, she collided with someone who had been walking toward her. "Dammit," she muttered under her breath, reaching a hand up to dry her eyes in a vain attempt to hide the evidence that she'd been crying. No one was about to see her cry, stranger on the street or not.

Unfortunately, what she found out when she looked up was that this was not a stranger on the street. This was not any ordinary Christmas idiot out shopping. 

This was Brad Hunter, looking down at her with those perfectly composed blue eyes, staring in quiet wonder. He'd never looked at her that way before. She looked down, mortified that he might see her tears. 

He lifted her chin with one gloved finger, until her gaze was level with his. He stared at her silently for several seconds, seeming to be studying her countenance, and she gazed back at him, unable to tear her eyes away. Brad smiled then, a slight, barely noticeable smile, and took her hand without warning. Wordlessly she allowed him to lead her across the street and into a small café. Only when they were seated at a small table by the window did he say anything.

"You were crying," he observed quietly. 

"I was thinking," she shot back, more annoyance in her voice than she intended. He didn't seem to mind; apparently he had expected as much.

"And then you ran into me."

She glared at him, angry that he was treating her as if she were five years old. "Yeah well…I wasn't paying any attention, I guess."

"Well that's obvious."

"What is this about, Brad? Because I can leave if you're going to be an asshole."

"And I can leave if you're going to be a bitch." Was it her imagination, or was that amusement she sensed in his tone?

Her scowl deepened and her crimson eyes flashed. "Well I _was_ just picked up off the street and taken to this café by force."

His eyes twinkled mischievously. "'By force,' she says…I believe you came quite willingly, if memory serves."

She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, slumping in her chair and pouting. "I didn't exactly have much choice, did I?"

"Naomi…"

"What?" she snapped. Playing mind games made her irritable.

His sapphire eyes were entirely serious. "I know…I know what happened."

Her eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Leon told me." 

And the world comes crashing down.

His voice was so quiet she thought she might have imagined it. She knew she hadn't when he didn't look away. He was waiting for her to respond. Oh, he'd get a response, all right.

"_WHAT?!_" She barely managed to keep from screaming, fury writhing within her. "When did he…_why_ did he…**_what the hell_**?!" Naomi was out of her chair and in front of the door in seconds, ignoring the stares of confused customers. She was halfway out of the door when she felt someone grab her arm. She whirled around and scowled at Brad. "Get the hell away from me. I don't want to talk to you."

He refused to loosen his grip on her arm. "I don't care. You don't have to."

She gestured towards the café. "I'm not going back in there."

"I never said you had to." Brad had steered her over to a bench outside the café before she even realized what was happening. To her surprise he sat down and in one smooth motion pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. She considered fighting back. She considered screaming. She considered giving him a well-placed kick and running away. 

She didn't. Instead she sighed heavily and gave in, resting her head on his shoulder. "Why are you doing this?"

He was silent for several minutes before he spoke. "Because I care." 

She looked up at him wonderingly. "About what?"

He tightened his hold on her and whispered softly into her ear. "You." 

She allowed this thought to sink in, a small smile sneaking onto her face without her noticing. Then she remembered what had brought about her rage in the first place. "So Leon told you."

"Yes…he did."

"Why?"

"Because he knew I cared." He looked down at her, brushing a few strands of hair out of her eyes tenderly. "And he wanted me to tell you that." Naomi's eyes widened. She didn't think anything else he said or did could surprise her more than that. Brad stroked her cheek gently, thoughtfully. "It's killing him, seeing you like this. He still loves you, you know. Enough to do anything he can to make you happy."

Screw that. She could be more surprised.

"He wanted me to talk to you, to make you understand. And I told him I would…for a price, that is."

Naomi looked up at him curiously. "And what might that be?"

She shivered pleasantly as he brought his lips to her ear. "The full and unconditional surrender of my subject to me."

"Oh really?" She smirked. "And if I don't cooperate?"

"Well I'm afraid you don't have a choice in that," he murmured as he bent down to capture her lips in a kiss. He returned her smirk as they separated, a protective arm still encircling her waist. 

Naomi smiled softly, letting her head rest on his shoulder once more. "Well then," she told him. "I'm all yours."

"Great, I'm done. I can go home now." He laughed at the shocked, disappointed look that crossed her face. "Well don't think you're not coming with me. I intend to claim my prize." Naomi wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself as Brad stood from the bench and proceeded to carry her down the street. 

She laughed, crimson hair whipping in the wind. "You're crazy," she told him affectionately. 

He stopped walking and looked at her, an admiring wonder in his eyes. "You're beautiful." The kiss was long; Naomi was dizzy when they finally broke apart. Her eyes were slowly closing; night after sleepless night had caught up to her at last. She was at last ready to let sleep consume her, safe and warm in Brad's embrace, but there was one thing she had to make sure of. He had to be there when she woke up.

"Brad…" she murmured as her vision began to fade to black. "Take me home…don't leave me…"

"Shh…go to sleep. Don't worry."

"Promise me, Brad," came the drowsy reply from the girl in his arms. 

"Trust me, Naomi."

"I never said I didn't."

"Then believe." 

"It's not easy, you know." Her words were nothing more than a whisper. He looked into her eyes, those vibrant crimson depths, and saw the truth.

She was lost. Afraid. Broken. Trying not to show it, but tired of hiding. And he saw it all too clear. 

Her defenses were down, and it terrified her. 

Brad sat down again on a nearby bench and held her close, not saying anything, trying to convey thoughts and feelings and promises with silence. And in that moment his soft, soothing calm, his hand tenderly stroking her crimson tresses, and his warm, gentle embrace said more than words had ever been meant to say. He waited until the silence had passed away to speak.

"A life is never an easy thing to put back together." His eyes were locked with hers. "You have to want it back first."

Naomi looked up at him. "I love you," she whispered, shaking slightly. Desperation shone in her eyes. He kissed her forehead lightly, reassuringly.

"I know you do, Naomi. I know you do." 

_*sighs* Wow.__ I thought I'd never finish this fic. I kept changing the ending…it still doesn't seem quite finished but I'll drive myself insane if I keep messing with it. It may not be my best work, considering it started out as remedy for my school-worn brain -_-, but here it is, anyways. Consider it a Christmas present. Now let's really get in the spirit of giving and leave me some reviews! ^-^ Happy Holidays everyone!! ^____________^ _ __


End file.
